Revelations: Hell Hath No Fury
by SatiricalPhilosophy
Summary: Faith reveals a shocking truth, and Buffy is too late. This takes place after season 7. Feedback appreciated.


Disclaimer- Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon. I only own the story.

Summary- Faith reveals a shocking truth, and Buffy is too late. This takes place about three years after season 7.

A/N- The fight scene's a bit rushed, only because it wasn't really the main point. If it completely sucks, I'm apologizing now. Feedback is very much appreciated. No flames though. All flames will be ignored and discarded.

**Revelations: Hell Hath No Fury**

Angry, sad brown eyes glared into vivid, angry green eyes. Chests heaved. Fist clenched. Blood dripped. Bruises formed. Still they stayed rigidly motionless and silent.

The brunette was the first to speak. Her words were harsh and furious, mirroring her inner self. "You just don't fucking get it do you?"

The small blonde tensed, if possible, even more. Her anger heightened to new levels. "Get what Faith? What am I supposed to get? Is it that you're an arrogant slut?" She flung her words, which were like sharp swords, precariously, not really thinking about their meaning.

The brunette moved, striking out. She hit her mark, before having the action mimicked twice as hard. Neither moved after that. Silence reigned for a short time, the quiet night haunting them mockingly. Eyes alight with a burning rage; their intense glare never wavered from the other. For to waver was to concede, and to concede was something neither woman knew how to do.

"Fucking bitch-"

The blonde snorted. "That hurts." It was a sarcastic quip.

The brunette dropped her pose suddenly, her eyes growing tired and sad. She shook her head slightly. "You really don't get it, do you B?"

The blonde didn't answer. The other slayers very sudden change in demeanor confused her. What was she playing at? "What are you talking about?" Her words were still harsh, but laced with confusion.

Faith let a sarcastic, half smile cross her lips. "I'm in love with you. You've never gotten that, though. To busy with your fucking boy toy vampire. But yeah… I love you Buffy." She stood looking quite unsure, the silent wind blowing her dark locks. She turned slowly and walked away into the night.

Buffy was left alone. Her body was tense for different reasons, and her eyes were wide. Shock raced through her, all trace of anger gone. Faith loved her? Faith loved her.

"Faith loves me." Buffy looked out into the night where the dark slayer had disappeared.

&&&

A pain filled cry reverberated through the spacious cavern, off the cavern walls and small mountainsides where rock formations had molded together to form small mountains. Slaying the large demon, she spun around; her blonde locks flying in her pretty face. She would know that scream anywhere, could identify whom it belonged to despite how many people were around. It didn't take her long to find the owner of the cry. Cold dread ran through her. Her body froze. Her thoughts didn't seem to process cohesively. A demon flying into her and tackling her to the ground brought her out of her daze.

She didn't have time for this! She had to get to _her_. She flipped to her feet, twirling and kicking the large demon in the face. She didn't wait for the demon to collect itself before rushing it, kicking its knee and breaking it, before breaking its neck. Another one rushed her, and another, and another. They kept coming. She dove and rolled across the dirty cavern floor, snatching up the scythe. Without pause, she was gracefully on her feet in the blink of an eye spinning and decapitating the demons around her. She reached behind her and pulled out the infamous stake, Mr. Pointy (she had saved it from the destruction of Sunnydale), spun around and shoved the stake into the chest of a vampire. She hit the heart. She walked through the dust and continued to fight, trying desperately to make it to the other side of the cavern.

She glimpsed dark hair. She was able to experience a small amount of relief. At least she knew _she_ was well enough to continue to fight. But how many other slayers had she known that had continued to fight even after receiving a serious wound, sometimes a fatal wound? She herself was guilty of the crime. Determination shown brightly in her green eyes. She _would _get to _her_. After all, no two slayers fought better as a pair than they did. If the forces of darkness was scared of them when they were alone and watching their own backs, they crumpled in a heap and wept when they were together.

Swinging, punching, kicking, killing. She didn't register the act; it was all natural instinct of being who she was. Of being the Slayer. She had fought her way to the gap. _She _was on the other side, all she had to do was jump across the gap where a raging inferno blazed below, and she would be there. Would be able to watch _her_ back, protect _her_. She would never admit to protecting _her_ though. She knew how much the other slayer valued _her_ pride. It was an easy feat for her. She sailed gracefully through the air and executed a perfect landing. She never stopped her killing dance.

So very close now. Slaying a large, horned demon she felt the ground tremble beneath her. She spun quickly and looked at the earth as it split open, and out of the dust and debris the mighty demon god known as The Destroyer (she couldn't help but snort in amusement at the lameness of his name whenever she heard it) rose in all his dark glory. Red serpent eyes pinpointed her out of the crowd. Her own eyes hardened and her lips curled in a disgusted snarl. He pointed a long curved fingernail at her, beckoning her to come. To come and try to defeat him. Come she would. A snarl of a smile twisted her lips at his silent challenge.

She leaped, propelling herself upwards. He tossed his hands as if to smack her away. Sharp, thin stiletto type spikes shot out of his fingertips. Her eyes widened. She twisted upwards and just avoided being hit, but lost her balance. He used her disadvantage to smack her away, using a rather large rock that hit her chest. She flew through the air and smacked against the far wall. She stifled a cry, pain shooting through her body. She heard an enraged cry. Her eyes widened. She jerked her head to look at the scene unfolding in front of her.

_She _was battling the demon god. It had been _her _outraged war cry that had filled the cavern, had reached her ears. _She _had leaped up to his elevated location on a small-upraised rock/mountain formation and was trading blows with The Destroyer. She watched as _she _spun blocking The Destroyers sword, the force of the demon's blow breaking _her _own gleaming weapon. Foreboding twisted in her gut like slippery, slithering snakes. Her breath hitched. Pain momentarily forgotten she surged to her feet, intercepting and killing the rushing demons swarming around her, trying to stop her from reaching their unholy god and her sister slayer.

Cold horror froze her. Time seemed to slow down. It was as if she had all the time in the world. She stared up at the demon god's smirking, ugly black and horned sinister face. A deep chuckle escaped him; it crawled over her skin like disgusting insects with their tiny legs. The Destroyer stared her directly in the eyes. A knowing egomaniacal glint with pure malice dominating swam in the demon god's eyes as he held _her _by the throat, ignoring _her_ struggles, outstretched in front of him. _Her _feet dangled high off the ground. She opened her mouth to shout no but it was to late.

_She _landed on the ground, impaled through the stomach by a razor sharp rock. _She _had been dead before _she_ reached the ground though, _her_ throat crushed by The Destroyer. A bloodcurdling scream ripped through her throat. She was by _her _side in an instant, dropping to her knees by _her _head. Tears ran down her cheeks as she brushed _her _hair out of _her _face. She was too late. The world around her faded. Nothing mattered except the eddying emotions inside of her. The self-destructive torment running through her being. She was too late. She had failed _her_.

Deep, victorious laughter echoed throughout the cavern. It shook her back to reality. Her body tensed. She stared at nothing. The fight around her continued earnestly. Slayers fell to their deaths. Demons and vampires alike met their end. Total chaos. She ignored it. She raised her eyes slowly to look at the demon god. He was staring right at her; a pleased haughty grin spread his so very red lips wide in his black as night face.

"Slayer!" She didn't respond. The Destroyer pointed his long, doublebladed black and red sword at her. She didn't flinch. Her eyes were emerald ice grottos. "Did you really think you could defeat me? I'm a god!"

She slowly stood up. Her body was stiff with intense rage, rage like she had never experienced before. She swallowed hard. Her hand tightened on her weapon, on the scythe. She tilted her head to the side, popping it. She rolled her shoulders. The pop was defining.

"You will fall, just like your pathetic sister slayer." He chuckled. "What do you think of that?"

A disturbing, cold smile tilted the side of her lips. "Your name's stupid."

Smile gone from his face he growled. His growl turned into a frightening roar that shook the entire cavern. A savage scream ripped from her mouth as she propelled herself up in the air, soaring high. She spun in the air and delivered a well-placed kick to the side of his head. His head was thrown to the side. She wasted no time in punching him with her left fist, followed by a right hook. She went to backhand him with her left fist. He caught it, soundly punching her in the stomach. Her anger soared. She felt nothing but hate and rage. She used it. Wielding it, she made herself into what she truly was. A true killer. A true hunter. _The _Slayer.

She didn't need magic to enhance her performance, her ability, her _power. _All the times when it was flung in her face that she was just randomly chosen. That she wasn't strong enough. That there were others stronger than her… Oh how they were wrong. She could feel it, all of it. She could feel her power. She could feel _their _power. She _was _the Chosen One. She _was _the Slayer. _She was._

Her scream was something primitive. It held all her rage, her pain, her power. Weapons clashed. Punches were thrown. Kicks were executed. Wounds were formed. Still neither Slayer nor Destroyer showed signs of defeat. Both were still infinitely strong. Time passed, for how long they didn't know. They stood away from each other finally. Evil red eyes met furious green.

"You'll never defeat me, slayer. You don't have the power," He snarled.

She flashed a quick angry and sarcastic grin. "Go ask the last person who said that to me what happened."

He charged her, bringing his sword down. She blocked it, upper cutting him painfully. He winced and stumbled away from her. He growled, glaring at her hatefully.

"You want to know what the sad thing is girl?"

"Your face?" It was asked with feigned innocence.

His smile was a ghastly thing. "She died thinking you didn't love her. Even more amusing, knowing you didn't love her she was still willing to protect you. It killed her… You killed her bitch," He hissed."

"I'm going to enjoy ripping your heart out," She growled.

She charged. Swinging her fist and being blocked, while swinging the scythe at the same time. She hit her mark. His eyes bulged. He backhanded her, the tips of his very long fingernails scratching her and leaving deep angry scratches across the top of her chest. She stumbled back but kept her footing. Her lips were curled in a sneer. She stared at the scythe deeply embedded in his side; the flesh sizzled. Walking up to him she picked up his discarded weapon where he had dropped it when the scythe had met its destination. Twirling it expertly in her hands she spun, cutting him down from the knees. His blood, which was a deep green, splattered on her.

"But I'm a god," He painfully choked out.

She smiled condescendingly. "And I'm The Slayer."

She straddled him. Using her hands and fingernails to rake at his chest, determined to do exactly as she had said. She was going to rip his heart out, and she was going to enjoy it. The Slayer, created by evil, was in full swing, Buffy Summers, the girl from LA California, had officially left the building. She plunged her hands in his chest, clawing her way through the thick muscles, bodily fluids, and ribs. She ripped apart his ribcage, ignoring his painful sounds and his hands clawing at her arms to get her to stop. She didn't though. She wouldn't stop until she held his heart in her small hands. She hastily pulled one of her hands away and punched him in the face before twisting his wrist; the sound of bone cracking was a pleasure to her ears.

She paused when she felt his frantically beating heart against her hands. She stared him dead in the eyes. His were filled with shock and fear. Hers were an empty void. Her jaw clenched. She squeezed his heart. A feral growl escaped her when she mightily tore his heart out, leaving a gaping hole in his chest. She didn't look at it, just stared at the withering demon _god _beneath her. She squeezed until the organ in her hand burst, spraying her. Her rage wasn't satisfied. The Slayer wasn't satisfied.

She grabbed his sword and plunged it into the ragged hole on the left side of The Destroyer's chest. Appeasement and satisfaction was still far from being had. She rose up, extracted the scythe, and began to swing. Fury fuelled her energy, fuelled the Slayer. She wanted more destruction, more death. She wanted to kill them all. Continuously she swung, the weapon cutting into the Destroyer, mutilating him. Burning him. She was destroying him.

When there was nothing left to swing into, she turned. She stood and shown with all of her glory, scary and looking like the slayer she was. She held the scythe tightly, covered in not only her blood but dripping in The Destroyer's blood as well. Her eyes were alight. There was still a fight below. She leaped and tackled two demons to the ground. They swung at her. They didn't have a chance. She was bestowing her gift on all that crossed her path. Her gift: death. Swinging, punching, kicking, killing. Killing. She was a powerful juggernaut, devastating The Destroyer's army. She was winning. It would be yet another apocalypse that she had averted. Another battle she had won. Another army of evil and darkness that she had slain. It didn't matter, however. Why? She was too late.

The numbers of the opposing army decreased until none were left alive. With nothing to direct her anger to, she was filled with a cold numbness. Her breathing was labored, but not from the battle. She turned, ignoring the superficial wounds that she had received. She ignored her fallen comrades and went straight to _her_. She knelt on one knee. Her hair was hiding her face from view. She couldn't cry. The pain was far to deep for tears. She touched _her _cheek.

"Your safe now. Finally getting the peace you deserve." It was a whisper, only heard by _her _and herself.

She raised and turned to face her army, her slayers. The scythe clutched in her hand. "Gather the fallen. Tomorrow we'll have their burial."

No words of congratulations were spoken. She just left with her head held high and demon blood covering her. All parted for her. She knew in the back of her mind with clarity that the events of this day would haunt her for the rest of her days. Her actions and the actions of others. She would always remember. She knew it to be the truth.

&&&

She leaned against the cold concrete of the tomb. She was surrounded by darkness except for the flashes of lightning sending rays of light shining through the dirty windows of the small mausoleum. Except for the pounding rain and irate thunder all was calm and quiet. Quiet and calm like her inner self. For twenty years she had lived day by day, never thinking about the future, the constant torment and livid inferno simmering inside of her only to be exorcised when she fought the forces of evil. She couldn't stop the weary sigh from leaving her mouth.

She had lived longer than any other slayer. Was held as an icon, a heroic and extraordinary legend for all slayers. She hated it. She hated the envious looks. She hated the looks of awe. She hated being held in such high favor. Tales of her accomplishments and courage were spun and told to all. They never mentioned her losses, however. Never spoke of the people she had lost. Never spoke of the little pieces of herself that she lost. It was never told that with each winning there was an equal and more horrible loss that she had to shoulder. That she had to live with. A new torment that would haunt her dreams. She closed her eyes against the biting ache.

Ache. It was a constant in her life. She knew it almost better than anyone. First it had been Xander, then Giles, Dawn, _her_, and then Willow. The most important people to her had all fallen before she had. Had been buried in the very mausoleum she now rested in. This was where she wanted to spend her last remaining moments. Where she _would_ spend her last remaining moments in the mortal realm. She was done. She could feel the cold seeping through her, stealing her life. It hadn't been by evil's hand though, that caused her to now perish. Oh no, she was too good for that. It had been by a human, whose drug lust was now killing her.

She thought back to only moments before. She had been walking, the dark obscuring her and acting as her only cover. Her superhuman hearing had picked up shouts from down the alley. She had heard the scuffle break out. A part of her had sensed what was going to happen, but she hadn't moved. She had stood at the mouth of the alley with her eyes closed, listening. The gun sounded. She could have moved, but she hadn't. The bullet entered her side. Pain went through her. It wasn't a sharp pain though, not like all those years ago when she was shot in her backyard on Revello Drive. No, this was a dull and distant pain. She welcomed it. She already knew when the bullet went in, that it had hit something vital. That this was a fatal wound and there was no Willow to save her from her impending death. She had came here, knowing that her life was slipping away, to die with the people she had loved more than her own life. It was _her_ tomb she leaned against now, holding her bleeding abdomen and slowly dieing.

Her breathing hitched. The cold spread. She wasn't afraid through. Quite the opposite. She was long overdue. She knew where she would go. She welcomed it with open arms. She opened her eyes and looked through the tiny window. She could see glimpses of the full moon through the obscuring fog, rain, and clouds. It wouldn't be like in movies when the heroine dies with the sun rising high over the horizon, or dying some heroic death. It didn't matter though because she was going home. She breathed. Her eyes became unfocused and glazed. A small serene and peaceful smile pulled her lips, adding to her natural beauty. The Slayer's legacy had finally came to an end. Buffy Summers was dead.

&&&

She didn't need to open her eyes to know where she was. The peace and warmth spreading throughout her being was indication enough. She opened her vivid green eyes and stared up into the beautiful clear blue sky above her. The soft green grass beneath her felt wonderful to her fingers. Cheery, ethereal music reached her ears from a distance. Birds chirped happily. She sat up, propping herself by her elbows. She touched her face. She was young again, no longer bearing the wrinkles her forty-five year old self had, but the smooth skin and wonderful complexion she had had in her early adulthood. Her name being called jerked her attention to her left. Her laugh was true and warm.

The warm body tackled her to the ground. She hugged the younger girl to her tightly. She breathed in the so very familiarly scent she remembered from her sister's infancy. She was finally being reunited with her beloved little sister. She let the joyful tears fall as she brushed the girl's hair back from her face and laughing blue eyes. She looked just like how she remembered her when she was in her teen years. She hugged her tightly to her, overjoyed from being with Dawn again. Her sister pulled back and pulled her to her feet. She let her little sister pull her along. She stopped suddenly. Her sister turned back and smiled happily. More tears sparkled in her eyes.

"Mom." She whispered and rushed into her mother's embrace. She cried, embracing both her mother and sister.

"Don't suppose there's room for two love deprived friends and a stuffy old British man, do ya?" She spun, long blonde hair spinning around her.

She squealed in delight and rushed to hug her two best friends and watcher, knocking them all to the ground. Joyous laughter erupted from the group. She beckoned her mother and sister to join them. She had her family back. She was in heaven. There was nothing sinister at work in the mortal world that she had left behind. She was finally getting her much-deserved break and her bit of peace. All was right. All was right except… She looked in all directions, confusion reflecting in her lovely green orbs that were so like her mothers.

"You won't find her." She turned to look at the redhead.

She raised an eyebrow. "Where is she? If she won't come to me, I'll just go find her. She has an overdue ass kicking for pulling that stupid stunt she did. 'Sides I have something important to tell her."

The idea was ludicrous, but she could swear sadness was in Willow's eyes. She looked around. Her mother, Dawn, Xander, Giles. They all had that same look in their eyes. What was going on? She sat up on her knees. She wanted answers. She wanted answers now.

"Buff-"

She stopped Xander before he could even begin. "Just tell me," She demanded.

"You won't find her Buffy," Dawn said quietly.

She frowned. "Point me in the right direction and I'll find her." Conviction was strong in her voice. Her mother touched her arm lightly. Xander looked away and Dawn avoided her eyes. She turned to Willow, her best friend, and Giles, her father figure and watcher.

"Buffy… They wouldn't let her cross over into heaven. She's not here. She's in-"

"Hell." Giles finished quietly.

Her eyes widened. Shock shown in them. Hell. _She _was a slayer though. _She_ was redeemed. _She_ had died helping save the world. _She_ had given _her_ life for a greater purpose. Had given _her_ life protecting her. They sent _her_ to hell. How could they have sent _her_ to hell? They sent _her_ to _hell_. Her eyes hardened. Empty voids of nothing. Anger she thought she would never feel again ignited in a furious inferno. They had sent _her_ to _hell_. It resounded through her mind scornfully. She stood up slowly. Someone was going to answer for this. Hell hath no fury like a slayer scorned.

Heaven and all Higher Beings trembled.

**_Fin_**


End file.
